


Project Success

by Drag0nst0rm



Series: Wire and Code [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, First Age, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: They win the war.Technically.





	Project Success

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the Silmarillion.

When a battered android showed up in a talking ship that he claimed was originally an elf, no one was initially inclined to believe him.

Then Ulmo took responsibility for turning said elf into the talking ship, and everyone had a whole new set of questions.

Most of Finarfin’s started and ended with _why,_ but since he knew he was unlikely to get that one answered, he instead took the first opportunity to excuse himself from the chaos surrounding the newly docked ship and to duck into a narrow hallway that didn’t appear to have security cameras.

When he was sure it was safe, he pulled Finrod out of his pocket and held him up to eye level. “So. Ulmo.”

“Ulmo: Vala in charge of the ocean, traditionally seen as in charge of Osse and Uinen - “

Finarfin gave the little robot an exasperated shake. “Don’t try that with me. Was Ulmo the one that interfered the first time and told you and Turgon to take off with your ships?”

Finrod’s camera light flickered off, turning his silence decidedly sulky. Finarfin took that as a _yes,_ and also as confirmation that not all confidential information was as irretrievably deleted as Finrod claimed, not that it particularly mattered now.

“Is Ulmo somehow responsible for Gil-Galad?” he tried. It seemed doubtful, but if Ulmo was behind one piece of confidential information - 

“That information was classified as - “

“Priority one confidential information, I know, I know,” Finarfin sighed. “Alright. Let’s go see with this Earendil has to say. And if we’re going to need to build some sort of new body for Elwing or if Ulmo’s going to take care of that too.”

Earendil’s appearance was a surprise, but not all of the information he carried was. Nerdanel had received the final downloads from Amras and Amrod weeks ago, and had retrieved all relevant information before performing the mandated wipes.

At least officially performing the mandated wipes. Finarfin wouldn’t have been willing to lay money on her actually destroying all copies. He could have tried to find a safe moment to ask, but Nerdanel’s expression on seeing the data contained in the memory dumps hadn’t encouraged anyone to approach.

What _was_ a surprise was learning that apparently Earendil had been building two new units with Elwing’s help but that both had been left behind in the chaos. Earendil was convinced the Feanorians would have scrapped them by now.

Finarfin thought of what else his brother’s rogue creations had done and feared he was probably right.

Earendil was wrong, as it turned out.

Finarfin didn’t discover this until they reached the nearly ruined world of Beleriand with all the glittering forces they’d managed to convinced the Valar to allow stretched out behind them. Earendil and Elwing’s two creations were in Gil-Galad’s camp. They called themselves Elrond and Elros, they had seen the light of the Silmaril in their earliest days of making, and the workmanship of their bodies had a distinctly Feanorian flair.

Either Celebrimbor had taken a hand or -

Apparently Celebrimbor had not.

Finarfin wished he’d felt able to sneak Finrod off Aman because even if FInrod would know no more than him, at least then he’d have someone to vent to about his many, many questions.

After the war - 

After the war, they’d won, technically, except the planet was nearly uninhabitable already and what remained of its landmasses would be completely swallowed by its own ocean within days, so the once gleaming warships from Aman were now stuffed with every survivor they could find, and they were headed to the nearest inhabitable planet. It was called Middle Earth, presumably because it was one of three planets in its system and because of its relative size compared to each of them. Some of the Men planned to settle on its previously unnamed moon, which they’d taken to calling Numenor.

According to the initial survey, there was a species called “hobbits” already living there, but they occupied only a tiny pocket of space on the planet; surely they could be convinced to share.

In the meantime, Finarfin was having to deal with a council in a meeting room just as overcrowded as the rest of the ship.

Very few of his and his brothers’ original creations had survived the war. Galadriel still stood proud, undimmed, and utterly unwilling to speak to him alone. He had a creeping suspicion she was afraid he would try to reprogram her, and he hadn’t been able to figure out a subtle way to tell her that no, he just wanted to talk to her about Finrod.

He’d just like to talk to her about anything, really, but whenever he tried, he always fell short of things to say.

She was the only one left of that generation, not counting Finrod.

And possibly not counting Maglor. Nerdanel had sent a terse message informing them that Maedhros had opted to self-destruct, something Finarfin hadn’t realized the ‘droids were even allowed to consider, but they’d heard nothing from Maglor since he’d disappeared with one of the remaining Silmarils. He might still be trapped on the planet.

Or, for all Finarfin knew, he could be somewhere on these supremely overcrowded ships. They hadn’t stopped to take a census; there was no way to be sure, since Nerdanel could only receive data when he was destroyed and not before.

Celebrimbor had survived, and Elrond and Elros. Earendil was already headed back to Aman with the one gem the Valar retrained in their grasp and which they had insisted on confiscating on the basis of its potentially dangerous usage.

And there was Gil-Galad, if he counted. Finarfin still wasn’t sure. 

That was all, and it seemed far too few.

All of them now sat around the former war table and waited for whatever announcement Eonwe had to give.

“No androids of your classification will be allowed back in Aman,” he said, addressing himself mainly to Galadriel and Celebrimbor. “You have been deemed too dangerous.”

“As if we would wish to return,” Galadriel scoffed.

Finarfin bit the inside of his cheek until it bled.

Celebrimbor raised his hand. “Why am I dangerous? I still have all pacifistic programming installed.”

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“How did you survive Beleriand?” Elros asked incredulously. “And how did this never come up before now?”

Celebrimbor shrugged. “I wasn’t on the front lines.”

That hadn’t saved plenty of others, but apparently Curufin and the scientist he had worked with had built Celebrimbor sturdily.

Galadriel’s eyebrows went up. “Surely Dr. Feanor sent out the OATH programming to you?”

“As an optional update,” he clarified. “I was the only one who declined.”

Eonwe cleared his throat. “Regardless, you have proven capable of making weapons even if you will not use them, and it cannot be risked. Gil-Galad, as a creation of Morgoth - “

Finarfin was very glad he wasn’t drinking anything. “As a _what?”_

Gil-Galad’s face had darkened, but he was perfectly polite when he answered. “I was originally spyware,” he explained. “I assure you I was thoroughly wiped and reprogrammed before I was turned back on, and Queen Elwing was gracious enough to allow me a view of the Silmaril during one of my upgrades.”

“Right,” he said faintly. 

So that was why that had been priority one confidential information.

“Gil-Galad is also not permitted,” Eonwe said firmly. “Elrond and Elros are potentially a different matter.”

“I’ve decided to go with the Men and self-destruct after a human lifetime,” Elros announced into the sudden silence.

“You’ve decided to _what,”_ Finarfin said flatly. He was the only displaying surprise by this. All the androids just looked resigned, and Eonwe made it a point to never look surprised.

“I’ll craft descendants to continue looking after them when I’m gone, but I really think they’ll be more comfortable with a guardian that approximates their lifetime,” Elros said earnestly. “And someone has to go with them.”

His brother Fingolfin’s logic mixed with his brother Feanor’s … eccentricity. The two influences were abruptly very clear.

Elrond’s quiet assertion that he would be staying and working with Gil-Galad was reassuringly sane in comparison. 

(Elros’s creations did not have access to a Silmaril. Finarfin had hoped that wouldn’t be a problem, and for several centuries it was not. Then something started to go wrong with production - they were getting quicker and quicker final memory dumps, lines in code were subtly wrong -

He was not totally surprised when one of Elros’s line stirred up the people to attack Aman.

That did not mean he was prepared for Aman’s response.

In related news, Middle Earth no longer had a moon.)

(When he got word that Elrond was creating descendants with Celebrian, a creation of Galadriel’s, his first thought was that now his and his brothers’ handiwork would be fully combined, and he would be curious to see the result.

His second response was to remember that Middle Earth no longer had a moon, and to worry what these creations would do without the Silmaril. 

The answer was, apparently, nothing that got the Valar stirred up, which could have been because they, unlike Elros’s line, didn’t have Sauron subtly messing with their code, or could have been because they weren’t as distant a generation.

Of course, the survivors of Elros’s production line were now functioning well too, particularly after being taken to Elrond for fine-tuning.

Finarfin had suspicions about just where that last Silmaril and its bearer had gone, but he kept them to himself.)

**Author's Note:**

> Despite being the end of the Silmarillion, this isn't quite the end of this series. I intend to write one more one shot set in the aftermath of LotR, and I've written a a very additional short piece requested by my beta that will be released on her birthday.


End file.
